


Hopefully

by Mooifyourecows



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Humor, I genuinely don't know how to tag this, I swear that makes sense, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, and inner monologue, little bit of innocent romantic extortion, there's snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooifyourecows/pseuds/Mooifyourecows
Summary: Daichi realizes too late that he's wearing the wrong clothes.Surely someone's life has been irrevocably ruined by his mistake.But hopefully not.





	Hopefully

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the DaiSuga Winter Weekend event that happened like, two years ago? Or something like that?  
> And then completely forgot about it until now.  
> So here you go, I guess.  
> Some cheese

He probably should have noticed it sooner.

After all, they weren’t even the right color.

They were close though, navy blue instead of slate grey.

But the size was all wrong. Too small. Too narrow.

He should have noticed immediately, and probably would have, if he wasn’t so dead on his feet.

Unfortunately, Sawamura Daichi had been just too damn tired, too damn sore, and too damn irritated to notice that he had gotten into the wrong locker at the gym and left with some other poor sap’s snow boots.

And to make matters worse, it hadn’t just been the boots. Daichi had gone right ahead and wrapped the thick knitted scarf around his neck and pulled on the soft woolen mittens too, which should have been the  _real_ indicator that he was trespassing on someone else’s territory.

Daichi had forgotten his gloves and scarf at home that day, after all.

Not that he owned anything this soft or brightly colored anyway.

“Stupid. Stupid Daichi,” he muttered, voice muffled under the warm fabric of the scarf as he trudged through the snow. His toes pinched and ached, pressed tight together inside the too small, too narrow boots.

So on top of being damn tired, and damn sore, and damn irritated… now he was damn mortified.

After walking the first block, he had finally realized that something was wrong and had turned immediately back for the gym. But it was locked by the time he arrived and he had been forced to head through the snow once more on the road to home, swearing he’d bring them back first thing the next morning.

“Stupid Daichi,” he groaned.

What if someone had seen him? What if the real owner of these boots and mittens and scarf went to the manager of the gym and they checked the security footage and tracked him down and took his membership away, or worse, sent him to prison for fifteen years for stealing?

_Fifteen years sounds a little extreme,_ he thought, adjusting the scarf over his nose.  _Maybe five._

But if they saw him stealing then they would have also seen him trip over the bench on the way to the locker.

He let out a low whimper and rubbed his eyes roughly.

_How embarrassing!_

They probably got a good laugh over his misery as they sat there, calling the police.

As if his bruised forehead wasn’t punishment enough.

He stroked his fingers along the inside of the mittens. They were a patchwork of warm colors and lined with fleece, warm and thick.

_Cute._

And the scarf, knit from yarn all shades and hues of blue and green, was also cute.

On top of that, they smelled incredible. Like peppermint and chocolate and just a hint of cinnamon. Just having the scarf tied around his face, covering his nose so that the scent invaded his senses, filled him with the sensation of Christmas. It made the trek through the snow almost pleasant.

And Daichi found himself wondering just what kind of person owned such warm, cute items.

He would be smaller than Daichi. But not by too much. He  _was_ able to force his feet into the boots without breaking any- important- bones, after all.

Maybe it was an older man, with greying hair, who hunched over when he walked and liked to smoke a pipe on snowy nights such as this one. The scarf and mittens were probably made for him by his wife, who knitted by the fire, listening to old timey music on her record player, humming along as she imagined how happy and warm her husband would be on his walk home from Pilates.

Daichi let out a low groan.

Great!

Imagining the owner of the stolen items only made him feel worse! There was probably a tottering old man out there in the cold that very instant, wearing boots too big for him, wondering who- what  _monster-_ would steal from him the things his arthritic wife had worked so hard to make.

Daichi let out a gasp and stopped next to a streetlamp, leaning heavily against it with his shoulder.

Maybe these were the last gifts his wife had made him before passing away!

Maybe the scent on them was the last fleeting memory of her love for her dear husband, who worked too hard for his own good but had always done right by them and their children and grandchildren.

And Daichi’s sweaty stench was  _erasing it completely from the universe._

He stayed leaning against the lamp for long, long seconds, snow gathering in his hair and melting on his forehead, leaving wet tracks down his temples.

Eventually the cold sting of the metal post seeped through his thin coat and he pushed away.

Well… that was just a hypothetical situation anyway.

Maybe the owner wasn’t a lonely old man with a dead wife.

These things could very well belong to… a teenage kid.

Yeah… maybe a young, bright eyed kid with his heart set on being an Olympic athlete. He was the anchor in the 4x400 meter relay and went to the gym every day after school to run around the indoor track when it was too cold outside.

Maybe he wasn’t that fast.

But he had a lot of heart and determination. The mittens and scarf were probably a gift from his four younger sisters. Their mother most likely worked three jobs just to support them after her husband up and ran off with his secretary. She probably scraped up all of her extra cash in order to get him sneakers. And didn’t have anything left to buy him warm clothes. So his sisters did odd jobs around the neighborhood and saved up all the money they could in order to buy them for him. They picked the ones they liked best. The ones that reminded them of their bright, courageous, hard-working brother who they were all sure would be on television one day, running to his heart’s content and breaking records.

And… he was probably too scared to admit that he lost them.

Daichi turned to the wall of the bakery he was passing and pressed his bruised forehead against it, eyes closed, fist gently beating the bricks next to his head.

He was the worst human being to ever exist. That poor kid was going to go home, freezing cold, and tell his little sisters that he had misplaced their gifts and then the youngest one, Mari, was probably going to burst into tears and the oldest one, Mika, would have to take her from the room to calm her down and  _oh god._

_I don’t deserve to live._

He stayed where he was for a long minute, until the chill crept through his skull and sent shivers racing up and down his spine.

Finally, he pushed away and trudged once more towards home.

It was just a hypothetical situation.

Maybe they didn’t belong to an old man with a dead wife or a young kid with a struggling family.

Maybe they belonged to…

“ _Hey!_ ”

Daichi’s steps slowed.

“ _Hey you! Stop right there!_ ”

He did as the voice commanded and turned.

Maybe the mittens, the scarf, the boots, belonged to a man with wild silver hair and round, pink cheeks. Maybe he was about Daichi’s age, and prettier than any grown man had the right to be. Maybe he was clomping through the snow in boots too large for him, wearing a cobalt blue, knee length coat, swinging arms slicing viciously through the chilly winter air.

Maybe he looked furious, thick grey eyebrows cutting harsh and low over his amber eyes and lips twisted into a scowl icier than the sidewalk beneath his feet.

And maybe, as he drew near, his feet- in those too large boots- slipped on the ice and flew out from beneath him. Maybe his swinging arms caught in Daichi’s stolen scarf and pulled. Maybe they both collapsed in a heap, a small explosion of powder puffing out around their bodies and settling down on top of them.

“Give me back my stuff!”

Maybe he even had a small beauty mark under his left eye, and the most adorable nose scrunch that Daichi had ever seen.

Daichi pushed up on his arms over the man, who still clutched at the scarf with trembling, frozen fingers.

“These are mine!” He tugged on the scarf, nearly pulling Daichi right back down on top of him. “Give them back!”

“If you want them, you have to pay the ransom,” Daichi said, eyes widening in shock at the sound of his own voice giving the ridiculous demand.

_What are you doing?_

_Give them back before he calls the police and you go to prison for five years!_

“Ransom?” The man’s mouth fell open. “ _Ransom?_ ”

“Yeah—”

“How dare you! They’re mine and I’ll—”

“It’s a cheap ransom. I’m sure you can afford it—”

“ _Like hell! Don’t make me—”_

“It’s just one kiss.”

The man stilled, glassy amber eyes staring up at him in stunned silence.

_Theft and sexual harassment._

_That’s definitely at least ten years in prison._

But still, he held his ground, swallowing the dry lump that formed in his throat. Maybe the tumble he had taken over the bench in the locker room had scrambled his brain a bit. Or maybe it was the man’s scent, peppermint and chocolate and just a hint of cinnamon, that lured him into such a ridiculous stand-off.

“Just one kiss,” he said again. “And then I’ll—”

The man yanked on the scarf and dragged Daichi down and into his lips.

And maybe they were softer than fleece, and warmer than wool, and far sweeter than cinnamon.

But also just as fleeting as the snowflakes melting on the back of his neck.

The man pulled away, taking his soft warmth with him, leaving Daichi entranced and pining for more.

“Now,” he barked, unraveling the scarf from around his neck. “Give me back my scarf. Give me back my mittens. Give me back my  _boots_. And give me your number!”

_Wait, what was that last one?_

“Wha-what?”

“Just do it!” He shoved him and Daichi rolled off of him, into a deeper pile of snow.

He quickly removed the mittens, passing them over. The man eagerly pulled them onto his hands and then pressed them to his flushed cheeks, eyes closing momentarily. Daichi unlaced and removed his boots and they traded, the man passing his over in exchange. Once they were back in their appropriate attire, the man pulled out his cell phone and Daichi tentatively recited his phone number.

The man held his phone up and leveled him with a stare.

“I’m holding it hostage.”

“Hostage?”

He nodded, dipping his chin into the scarf wrapped loosely around his throat. His already rosy cheeks flushed brighter with warm color, and his eyelashes, thick as pine boughs and as white as cotton, fluttered.

“The ransom is cheap though,” he said, voice delicate, like the powdered snow collecting in his tumbleweed hair. “I’m sure you can afford it.”

“Ah…” Daichi’s throat went dry and his voice rasped. “And… and what’s the ransom?”

The man scampered to his feet and dusted the snow from his back and shoulders.

“Dinner,” he replied. “Stand by and wait for my call about the details of the exchange.”

Daichi stared up at him in disbelief.

He hesitated for another moment and then turned and hurried down the sidewalk in the direction he had come.

For several minutes, Daichi stared after him.

So…

He hadn’t been an old man with a dead wife.

He also hadn’t been an ambitious teen with a struggling mother and four younger sisters.

Daichi still wasn’t exactly clear on just who he was yet _._

But  _maybe_  he was the love of his life.

Hopefully.

**Author's Note:**

> Gouda
> 
> Come yell at me on [Tumblr.](https://mooifyourecows.tumblr.com/)


End file.
